


Loved To Death

by LieutenantCharlesLorem



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1800's ish?, Hurt/Comfort, It’s not as dark as it sounds, M/M, Sexual!Aziraphale, Some time in the past, Suicide, The Arrangement, non-virginal Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 06:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20502275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantCharlesLorem/pseuds/LieutenantCharlesLorem
Summary: Crowley finds Aziraphale brooding after the outcome of a recent temptation. A duke's son was meant to marry a princess and it was hoped to bring about peace. Crowley was asked to do something about that. The travel had seemed pretty grueling to Crowley and Aziraphale was going to be in that area anyway, but Crowley didn't really think this was something the Angel could do. Aziraphale took the temptation out of spite, and even though he did a damn good job, he regrets the outcome.*This piece contains mentions of suicide*





	Loved To Death

There were soft footsteps on the carpet as Crowley entered the room. Aziraphale was wrapped in a blanket lying on a couch Crowley had never seen before.

“Go away,” said Aziraphale.

“It didn’t go well, then?” asked Crowley. “I told you.”

“Never again. No more Arrangement.”

“What? He wasn’t into you?” he asked.

Aziraphale let out a sigh. “He was.”

“Then what happened? Too into you? He freak you out?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Go away, please,” Aziraphale said turning over on the couch so Crowley couldn’t see his face.

“Just tell me what happened.”

There was silence. Aziraphale pulled the blanket tighter around him.

“Fine!” growled Crowley. “I’ll find out for myself.”

Leaving abruptly, he contemplated if he should go use a telegraph. He shook his head. It would take far too long. Instead he swaggered into an alley, leaned against the wall and whispered, “Williams?”

After a few tries he heard, “Mr. Crowley? Is that you behind that bush?”

“Yes, Williams. Can’t be seen and all that. Listen, what happened with the Duke’s son? Did he marry the princess, or…?”

“Uh… Mr. Crowley, the boy passed.”

“Whatcha’ mean _passed_?”

“He’s dead and gone.”

“What?! What happened?”

“He offed himself, it would seem.”

“Offed himself? Why would he do that?”

“Don’t know, really. Except that he was always a sad sort of boy. And a man did come, like you said… but I was under the impression that it would be you.”

“Yes, well, plans change.”

“Sure, well he was a bit older of a man to the boy, so his mother thinks the man took advantage of him. Maybe he did. But the way I see it, he really liked the man. Looked up to him. If something did happen, I don’t think the boy felt hurt by it and couldn’t handle it or something. I think he was just a bit happy for a while, and when the man left, he didn’t want to go back to being not so happy anymore.”

“That’s… that’s a shame. I’ve got to go, Williams.”

“Don’t know where you’re going to shove off to from behind a bush, but alright.”

Crowley ended the demonic miracle that was sending his voice to a land far away, and leaned his back against the wall. “Shit,” he said.

_“Here’s a picture of the guy,” said Crowley handing Aziraphale a small black and white photo._

_“Aww, sweet boy,” Aziraphale cooed, running his finger along the image of the man’s face. “Low self-esteem. Poor thing.”_

_“You can tell he has low self-esteem from his picture?”_

_“His smile lacks confidence. But maybe I can help with that. He looks like he needs some good in his life.”_

_“The task is not to love him to death, it’s to be a temptation! It’s to put doubt in his mind so he’s too confused to marry the princess, and then cause political unrest.”_

_“Crowley, he’s probably done what he’s been told his whole life, never questioning it. Self-esteem and confidence are necessary for him to come into his own and refuse his betrothal.”_

_“Aw… Angel, I didn’t know you didn’t think well of yourself,” Crowley said facetiously, sticking out his bottom lip._

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“You never question the higher ups; you always follow the rules.”_

_ “I’m sitting here discussing fornicating with someone to further an agenda from the depths of hell, because you, a demon, don’t want to travel through Hungary because you think it smells funny.”_

_“Eh… Point taken.”_

Crowley wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone, or if he should go back to Aziraphale. He’d wanted more information, but there was only so long he could keep that link open, and Williams, who worked on the Duke’s grounds wouldn’t be able to fill in all the gaps for him. There would only be two people who knew all the details, and one was dead.

“Aziraphale?” he said as he entered. It was dim now, what with the sun going down and Aziraphale in the same position without getting up to turn on any artificial lights. Crowley caught his toe on the edge of a carpet and stumbled. “Satan, it’s dark enough to make me fall and break my neck.”

“You’d mend yourself,” said Aziraphale.

“It’d hurt anyhow.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers in reply, and the lights switched on. There was silence as Crowley approached.

“I… I brought you a piece of cheesecake.” There was no answer. “It’s got fresh strawberries on it and everything. The man at the shop offered this blended jam topping, but I said no, something fresh, my friend has very high-class taste.”

Still no answer. Crowley put the bag with the little to-go box of cheesecake down on the table and said softly, “I heard the boy checked out early.”

Finally, Aziraphale sighed. “Sorry if it gets you in trouble.”

“Naaahhh,” said Crowley breathing his H like a Scotsman. “A certain amount of peace was dependent on that marriage, so it’s all good.”

“Great,” said Aziraphale, mustering only slight sarcasm.

Crowley walked over to the couch, trying to tread lightly. He sat down on the floor so that his back could just barely lean against Aziraphale’s body on the couch.

“So, you wanna talk about it now?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna get pissed?”

“I want to have not inspired someone to kill themselves.”

“Yeah… How did you do that though?” Crowley asked, glancing at Aziraphale and slightly swiveling his upper body like he’d already had a drink. “Cause as a demon, this could prove a pretty useful trick if I ever need it. It’d be pretty selfish to keep it under wraps.”

Aziraphale sat up suddenly and turned, letting his blanket fall and having to move his legs passed Crowley to sit on the couch properly. He didn’t look at Crowley, but said, “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“Nope!”

“Alright, then bring me the cake, and while you’re at it, fetch some scotch.”

“Yes, Sir!” Crowley said, standing up. He returned a moment later with the to-go container, now open with a fork inside, two glasses, and a bottle of Macallan. He poured them each a glass, filling them a bit fuller than a gentleman normally would.

Crowley sat down on the couch next to Aziraphale. “Nice couch,” he said.

“I just wanted something I could lay my whole body on without walking another step.”

Crowley nodded. Silence fell, and he just waited. He could wait this out if he had to.

Aziraphale sighed. “You knew the work I was doing with the church was going to take time.”

“Mhm.”

“And I was there enough days to have some chat with the Duke’s son. I didn’t want to… jump the gun, as they say. I told him I was there to give his father a message, and then planted it in his father’s mind that it was true even though I gave no official message.”

“Of course.”

“I told him that he was beautiful. We went for a walk in the park under the guise of talking about his father, and then later politics. We talked about books mostly…” Aziraphale took a deep breathe and picked up his glass of scotch, taking a big gulp. “I told him he was too good for the girl. He reminded me that she was a princess, but I told him no, none of that matters. You deserve to be happy. Personal happiness isn’t about money, or politics, or royalty. I took him to the church. He showed me his garden…” He took another drink. “I kissed him in the moonlight. He was giggling and I shushed him. Played it up that we couldn’t let his dear old parents know. That we couldn’t let anyone know. Climbed into his room from those sort of decorative bricks that stick out of some walls every so often.”

“So you did sleep with him?”

Aziraphale nodded. “You know, before we made love, I asked him exactly what he wanted me to do. Thought it best you know? This whole thing wasn’t really for me anyway. And do you know what he said?”

There was a pause. Crowley wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or not. When Crowley didn’t respond Aziraphale went on, tears in his eyes now. “He said no one had ever asked him anything like that. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe anyone would care. I told him he could have anything and he said all he really ever wanted was to be loved. To feel loved. So I tried to make things extra slow. Make him feel like he was special, and lovely in _that_ sort of way. Like I should be so lucky. That was my intention anyway. I thought… He could think he caught the attention of this strait-laced older man, and if he could do that, certainly there would be others, that really, he could have whom ever he wanted, that he could do whatever he wanted.”

“…Do you know what went wrong?”

“I… well he always knew I planned to return to London. _That is my home, _I told him. _I have business there._ After a point, every time we spoke he tried to convince me to stay. We still laughed, and he still seemed to understand when I reiterated that I had to go, so I didn’t think him too torn up. But… after everything I thought a real goodbye might be too much. So after laying with him for the last time I wrote a note saying I had to leave for London, but that I had enjoyed every moment of our time together, and left before he awoke.”

“Ah…” said Crowley, not knowing what to say as Aziraphale turned and made eye contact with him.

“I had this foreboding feeling that I had done a bad thing, but I tried to let it go, because obviously I had been asked to do a bad thing. I’d done… _bad_ things before. It all evened out. Everything would be fine. And then when I returned this came in the post.” He picked up a piece of paper from the table and handed it to Crowley.

Crowley read aloud, “I know I have become too attached too fast, and I am sorry. But you are my angel. My saving grace. I do not wish to burden you. But I also do not wish to live in the depths of the hell that is my life without you.”

“Yeah…”

“Shit, Angel, I’m sorry.”

“You were right.”

“What?”

“I thought if only one of us was going to go, it had to be me. I wasn’t going to send you to try to do a blessing on consecrated ground. But you were right when you said I couldn’t do the sex ones. I was offended, as if you were saying I was unappealing. As if that matters. I took the task because I had something to prove. But you were right. You should’ve gone. Gone and just… fucked him I guess. Left quickly. He’d have thought, oh that was a thing, perhaps I like men better than women, not fallen so in love with you that he… ugh…” He put his head in his hands. “I really cocked this one up.”

Quietly at first, Crowley began to laugh. Aziraphale glared at him. “Oh, come on Aziraphale, you said that on purpose,” he said swatting at Aziraphale’s arm with the back of his hand. “There is no way that came out of your mouth on accident!”

Aziraphale let a small smile form on his lips. “…Okay, maybe I did say it that way on purpose. But I’m still upset!”

“Oh, Angel,” said Crowley, wrapping an arm around him. “We don’t know that it would’ve been any different if it were me.” 

Aziraphale snorted.

“No, really,” said Crowley. “I would’ve gone about it differently, but he still might’ve become obsessed. You saw there was something wrong with him, just from his photo. Just from his photo, Aziraphale. He was probably depressed, obsessive compulsive, and suicidal long before we came along. He didn’t even need me, he had plenty of inner demons already.”

“I guess so.”

Crowley leaned back against the arm of the couch and pulled Aziraphale’s shoulder to lean against him. Being this close was a rare occurrence, but it had happened a time or two over the centuries.

“Sorry if… Sorry if you got attached to him,” said Crowley as Aziraphale settled in.

“Not really, I suppose. I was hardly planning on seeing him ever again. But at least I knew he would be there. It’s just strange to have touched someone one day and have them gone the next.”

“Well, things like that are bound to happen to us. All the time we’ve been here. Mayflies and all that.”

“Yes, mayflies.”

“May happen to me soon. Not so much closeness, but one moment there, one moment gone. I leave for Russia in the morning.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale tried to look back at him but they were too close. “Killing?”

“Ugh, I don’t know exactly what is going to happen yet, Angel. It’s just a job.”

“Do be careful.”

“Don’t. I’ll tell you one thing though. If I ever need a job like that again, I won’t hesitate to ask you.”

“What?” whined Aziraphale. “It was a disaster!”

“No, you showed me. You were right.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “And not for the reason you’re thinking. You got in there and got him to show you his underbelly, no problem. You’re right, everyone just wants a little love. Even the one’s hell bound.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll say yes.”

“Aye, but I’ll ask anyway.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I have to go at first light. Are you going to be alright?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, staring half lidded at his glass. “Don’t even think on it, Chuckaboo. Just rest here tonight, for your journey.”


End file.
